


The Generals' Girls

by romeokijai



Series: They speak in a language all their own [2]
Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Connor Bennett's commentary on Charloe, F/M, Humor, POV First Person, Revolution: The Second Coming, and Bass has a big sword, with a teeny tiny slice of Norett on the side
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-23
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-23 02:29:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4859633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romeokijai/pseuds/romeokijai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She’s always screaming at him over all sorts of petty shit, and he’s constantly barking back at her about equally petty shit. To the untrained ear, it sounds like your typical case of two people who loathe each other’s existence. But if you listen more closely, you’ll realize pretty quickly that this is just their version of foreplay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Generals' Girls

**Author's Note:**

> Revolution: The Second Coming Prompt #101: They speak in a language all their own.
> 
> Pairing: Charlie Matheson/Bass Monroe
> 
> Set in the same 'verse as Part 1, which is all Connor/Nora. However, this can be read as an independent standalone. 
> 
> A great big thank you to LemonSupreme for previewing this and offering helpful feedback!

 

* * *

 

My name is Connor Bennett. I’m twenty six years old, and my father is Sebastian Monroe. Yeah… _that_ Monroe.

Up until about a month ago, I had no clue who my dad even was, and then one day, he just shows up in my hometown in Mexico with his grumpy as fuck boyfriend – sorry, _best_ _friend_ – and this dead-eyed blonde lady (who apparently is the reason the Blackout happened) and tells me he’s there to ‘rescue’ me from my terrible (his words) life.

Because life in Asscrack – sorry, _Willoughby_ – Texas is soooo much better.

Okay, fine. I’ll admit. This town’s not entirely bad. At least not anymore. I mean, sure, there are still days when it completely sucks monkey balls, but at least this town has Nora.

Mmm…Nora….

Aaaand I’ve digressed.

What was I talking about?

Oh, yeah. My old man.

So he shows up in Mexico, makes a huge fucking scene, almost gets both of us killed, and then somehow convinces me to come back to Texas with him and his little crew. And I, being the love-starved puppy that I am, decide that fine. I’ll go with him. He’s my long lost dad, after all.

And then we all rode off into the sunset and lived happily ever after. Right?

Yeah. Sure. If your definition of ‘happily ever after’ involves impending wars, typhus outbreaks, and more family feuding and dysfunction than the Tudors.

Alright, alright. So the Mathesons aren’t _that_ bad, but they sure as hell aren’t the Huxtables. 

Speaking of feuding…

I suppose this is as good a time as any to mention Charlotte (or Charlie, as most people call her). She’s the dead-eyed blonde lady’s – sorry, _Rachel Matheson’s_ – daughter and Miles’s niece (or daughter? I have my suspicions...).

Charlie is twenty two and gorgeous as fuck – big blue eyes, long blonde hair, all lithe and leggy and hot.

She’s also feisty as hell. I once made the mistake of trying to flirt with her (this was before I met Nora), and she straight up threatened to cut my balls off.

I’m not joking. The chick is nuts. But there’s something indisputably endearing about her brand of crazy (unlike her mother, who is just…well, crazy).

Anyway, I’m pretty sure Charlie’s got a raging hard on for my dad and vise versa.

I mean, talk about unresolved sexual tension. Those two are the goddamned dictionary definition of UST. In fact, the chemistry between them is so palpable, so insanely electric, that their getting together would probably cause the earth to explode. Or, you know, it would quite possibly turn the lights back on or something.

They do this thing a lot where they lock stares and hold entire conversations with just their eyes. Most of the time, they’re saying something along the lines of: _I hate your guts; get the fuck away from me._ That, or: _take your goddamned clothes off so I can fuck you six ways from Sunday_.

Nora calls their optical conversations ‘eyefucks.’ (Clever, right? Nora’s smart like that.)

Mmm…Nora….

Damn. Now I’m distracted.

Again.

Focus, Connor!

Where was I?

Right. Charlie and my dad. And their feuding.

They spend about ninety percent of their time eyefucking and about forty percent of their time verbally assaulting each other – and before you tell me I suck at math, I’ll have you know that those numbers are intentional because there’s a thirty percent overlap when they’re doing both, fighting _and_ eyefucking.

She’s always screaming at him over all sorts of petty shit, and he’s constantly barking back at her about equally petty shit. To the untrained ear, it sounds like your typical case of two people who loathe each other’s existence. But if you listen more closely, you’ll realize pretty quickly that this is just their version of foreplay.

For instance, right now.

Wait, actually, let me back up and give you a bit of context first.

After a long day of training, Miles, Dad, Charlie, and I decided to hit up one of the local bars. We were all sitting in our booth, minding our own business, when a couple of Generals’ Girls came in.

What’s a Generals’ Girl, you ask? Let me enlighten you.

Every once in a while, some local lady will recognize Dad and Miles – like, actually recognize them from their golden militia days. And instead of cowering in fear because they’re in the presence of The Butcher of Baltimore and the Scrooge of Scranton, these women start tripping over their own two feet and fawning over the old generals like those two are the way to salvation or something.

It’s pretty amusing. Dad and Miles and their fangirls. So Nora and I have named these women the Generals’ Girls. There aren’t that many of them, but man, they know how to make a scene.

The former leaders of the Republic think it’s hilarious and usually try to ham it up for these ladies, just like they were doing tonight. One of the girls was getting especially handsy with Dad and kept making comments about his big sword. He just snorted and took his sword belt off, then let the girl drag him out onto the dance floor. She was on him like a fly on shit, and he got so wrapped up in the moment that he didn’t even notice when Charlie stood up, grabbed his sword from the booth, and stormed out.

Of course, when he finally did notice that his stuff was missing, he freaked out and went looking for her. It’s funny, because he instantly knew it was her. He asked me where she went, and I just shrugged and took another sip of my whiskey. I wasn’t about to get involved. This wasn’t my problem.

And ever since we’ve been back at the safe house, those two have been going at it. 

“I know you took it!” Dad yells. He’s upstairs, in Charlie’s room, and I can hear him rummaging through her things. “Where the hell did you put it?!”

“Get your fucking hands off my stuff and get out of my room, Monroe!”

“I’m not leaving till you give it back!”

“Get. The fuck. OUT!”

“No, damn it! Not until you at least tell me why you took it in the first place.”

“I’m not telling you a goddamned thing, so just get out of my room!”

(Okay, I’m pretty sure someone just threw something against a wall.)

“Jesus, Charlie!”

(Yup. She definitely just threw something. Probably at him.)

“GET OUT!”

(More rummaging. More screaming from Charlie. Dad grumbling.)

“Aha!” Dad’s laughing now. More like cackling, really.

Guess that means he found his sword?

Yup, he did.

I watch, amused, as he saunters down the stairs, a big, smug grin on his face, fingers victoriously wrapped around his beloved sword. Then he turns back and says, “You know, Charlotte, if you wanted to touch my sword so badly, all you had to do was ask!”

Charlie screeches like a banshee at that, and Dad books it – heads straight out the front door, laughing the entire time. And, as you’d imagine, Charlie is on his trail within seconds.

“Where’d he go?” She looks at me, all feral-eyed and fuming.

I once again just shrug my shoulders and make myself comfortable on the couch. Like I said earlier, no way in hell I’m getting involved in their shit.

She exhales sharply, rolls her eyes at me, and then stalks out the front door, slamming it behind her. “Monroe!”

“Jeez,” Nora giggles as she walks into the living room and joins me on the couch. “Those two just need to fuck already. All that unresolved tension cannot be good for either one of them.”

“I’ll say,” I snicker and pull my woman close, planting a soft kiss against her left temple.

She smiles, snuggles up to me, and cracks open an old paperback copy of _The Count of Monte Cristo_.

We spend the next hour or so reading by candlelight and then eventually fall asleep together on the couch, only to wake up when we hear the front door open.

Charlie walks in, and Nora and I both exchange a knowing look when we notice Charlie’s flushed and rumpled appearance and the fact that she’s walking kind of funny. Not to mention her totally pacified demeanor – a complete 180 from earlier.

She doesn’t bother acknowledging our presence and quietly trudges upstairs.

Dad comes in shortly after, and…okay, so I haven’t known my dad for very long, but I’m no idiot. That dopey grin he’s wearing?

Yeah, that is the smile of a man who definitely just got laid.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, and please leave a review if you have a second!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Follow Me Into the Night](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5319854) by [romeokijai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/romeokijai/pseuds/romeokijai)




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